Coming back

I looked forward to coming back home, but as I drove puddles cut my way. I had to stop. I got out of my car, stepping straight into a swamp and staining my neat shoes. I knew the marks would never come off.

There was no coming back.

I remembered the home from the old times. When you were there, waiting for me, brewing tea, sitting in a chair. That was what I hoped to come back to.

Even though I perfectly knew you, I completely forgot who you were and what you did to me. I just missed you. I wanted you to sit next to me.

You always said what you felt, but I never wanted you to love me. Now I want nothing but you to love me.

There is no coming back.

You

I’m standing on a shore, staring at you, and I don’t know what to say. Maybe there’s nothing to say.

I’m standing on an edge, wondering about my life, and I don’t know what to do. Maybe there’s nothing I can do.

I’m standing on a hill, thinking about flying, but I don’t know how to breathe. Maybe there’s no breath in me.

And I sit on that bench. Tired of asking myself questions that have no answers. If I could… if only I could lay my head on your lap, feel the warmth of your body, hear the whisper of your voice, feel your touch on my hand. Then I would know all the answers.

Then I would follow you everywhere, letting you lead me.

I went to the forest, holding your hand. The trees absorbed you. You left me in the darkness. You left me in the cold.

I’m fading.

Only

You look at me. And what do you see?

You see what you want to see. You create the image that you want to create. You’ve already made up your mind about me.

And when I suddenly speak up, you’re surprised because you thought I could only politely nod my head with agreement.

You’re surprised when I climb a mountain because the look on my face clearly indicated that I’d been lost in woods.

And you’re shocked when I cover my hands with dirt because you thought the only thing I could do was to put a lipstick on.

I’ve given everything to the world, not expecting anything in return, only to become a person that you cannot see.

How many years have I been here? Where have I been before? How did they find me, if I’d been covered up by snow?

I only grow on the land that I’ve been allied to. When you pull me out, there is nothing to quench my thirst. I wither.

wise are the witches